


“The Way Our Bodies Remember to Breathe”

by Hecate



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22821046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hecate/pseuds/Hecate
Summary: It's not Spike who finds Buffy in that abandoned house. It's Faith.
Relationships: Faith Lehane/Buffy Summers
Comments: 12
Kudos: 144
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	“The Way Our Bodies Remember to Breathe”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Seika](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seika/gifts).



The house feels different with Buffy gone, quiet and hollow, the world after a bomb went off. For a moment, Faith can't move, can't walk towards the other girls. For a moment, she wants to run after Buffy, wants to grab her hand and pull her back into the house. She wants to steal a car and go after her and then step on the pedal and just go.

Just leave the wannabe Slayers behind and Buffy's friends with them. Hitting the road with Buffy, time backing away from them until they are the girls from years ago, the graveyards and dance floor their kingdom, the night beating through them with a heartbeat only they can hear.

But she can't, she's better now than she used to be, and she promised Buffy to protect them. So Faith puts on a familiar and well-used mask. She steps into the living room, and she raises her voice.

The war changes in front of her.

[She dreamt of Buffy before she ever met her, dreamt of her soft smile and her sharp grin. Dreamt of Buffy running through the woods, running to school, running out of her home, her parents' voice loud behind her.

She dreamt of Buffy and a part of Faith wanted her to be real.

Another was scared that she was.]

Faith still thinks of Buffy while the girls argue, thinks of her when she plans with Giles, thinks of her when the First Evil comes for her, wearing Wilkins' face, using his voice and his memories. And for a moment, with Wilkins looking at her, she thinks of Buffy and that knife and losing everything, and she _hates_ her.

It's a familiar feeling.

The thing in front of her is ranting, is telling her all the worst things she shouldn't hear about Buffy, and maybe Faith is still not okay and maybe she wants Buffy to be the villain for once. For a while. Just until she can be the hero.

But _God_ , she doesn't want to do this alone.

“I miss you,” she says, and Wilkins stops talking. Looks at her with the same soft smile, always a bit amused by her, always fond.

"Of course," he replies. "I'm the only one who ever cared for you."

She shrugs, thinks of Angel. "Maybe." Remembers Buffy in that church with their bodies slamming back into place, the brief moment between Buffy looking at her through Faith's eyes and the light and the pain and falling back into her own body. "Doesn't matter," she goes on. "I don't need anyone."

Wilkins laughs, sharp and high, and it's not him. It has never been him, she knows that. But she still turns away, still walks out of the room and into the kitchen, and she pretends everything is fine when Willow looks at her with weary eyes.

[Buffy and her in a dark alley, the sound of music slipping through the half-open backdoor of the Bronze, the vampire turning to ashes. It was the first time she saw her, it was the first time Buffy was real.

And Faith thought, 'Oh,' and, 'It's you,' and Buffy didn't know her at all.]

She can't sleep, can't hold still. The bed is too comfortable, is too hard. The room a prison, the walls too far apart. Time going by fast-slow-fast in a jerky rhythm. Faith slips under, for minutes, and she dreams in flashes, vampire teeth, and Xander screaming. Wesley bloody beneath her hands, a woman smiling at her on the prison yard before throwing a punch. Wilkins handing her a knife, Buffy chained to a wall.

She can't sleep, and she has to get up, and she is shaking, her body waiting for an attack, battle-ready and impatient. She thinks of Robin for a brief moment, of the way he looked at her, and she thinks of finding out if he is still around, if he's awake and strong enough for her.

But she doesn't want that, doesn't want him, wants something else. She wants the night and everything that is waiting for her in it, something like her. When she throws herself out of the window and into the dark, it feels like the first welcome she got for a while, it feels a little like freedom.

And Faith storms into it.

[She dreamt of Buffy on her way to L.A., her real body still feeling strange to her, newly unfamiliar, and she itched with it even in her sleep. She dreamt of Buffy and of Riley, and when she woke up she was angry again, angry and scared, and she hit a wall until her knuckles bled, and she looked down on her broken skin, vulnerable and bloody.

“It means nothing,” she said, and she didn't think of Buffy rising on her toes to kiss Riley.]

There is a house, one of many, with dark windows and a door that looks like it took a beating. There is a house, and it looks as hollow and dead as all the others on its road.

It calls to Faith anyway.

She walks towards it with heavy steps, more careful than she tends to be, tense in this empty, haunted town. Tense because it feels like she is dreaming, the world a strange place, the house a siren call. There is something waiting for her in there, and she isn't sure she is ready for it.

But she doesn't stop walking.

She doesn't want to.

The house opens up to her with the sigh of the door as she pushes in, the muffled echoes of her steps as she walks down the hallway and up the stairs, the scrape of her palm as she pushes against another door.

The house opens up, and Faith is in an unfamiliar bedroom and Buffy is looking at her with blank eyes.

“Hi,” Faith says, still careful, still remembering Wilkins' words.

A sigh, a frown on Buffy's face, but she is looking at Faith and she isn't walking away. “Hi.”

[A room she never saw in Buffy's home before, a clean, bright room with a bed that seems made for princess dreams and slumber parties, and Faith stood in front of it, alone, confused.

Buffy's voice behind her.

A few lines Faith delivered like it was all a game, a movie, and her life was just the worst role she ever took on. A knife in her stomach and blood dripping over a perfect scene.]

For a moment, Faith doesn't move, stands in the door and keeps looking at Buffy, at the way her hair is escaping her messy bun, at the wrinkles in her clothes, the tight line between her eyes. For a long moment, she looks at Buffy and Buffy doesn't look lost. She looks like she has lost instead, and the difference is staggering. 

Faith doesn't know what to do with it.

“Did you follow me?” Buffy asks, and there is a hard edge to her voice, impatience and anger and distrust

Faith shakes her head. “When did I ever follow you?” she asks. 

She can hear the tremor in her voice, and Faith doesn't know if it's fear or anger. She can't even understand herself that much in this moment, Buffy looking at her with wide-blown pupils and hands that clench and unclench again and again.

“Then how did you find me?” Buffy goes on.

Faith shrugs. “Followed the Slayer's calling, I guess.” A quick smirk, a raised eyebrow.

Buffy frowns, looks away, and it hurts to see her like this, hurts because she reminds Faith of herself and Buffy isn't supposed to look like that, is supposed to be better than her, is supposed to...

Faith swallows.

“Are you okay?” she asks, and the words feel strange in her mouth; uneasy, unnecessary. Buffy has always been okay.

Buffy isn't okay.

"Sure," Buffy answers, and Faith almost laughs at her.

She stays silent instead, takes a step into the room. Sinks to the floor, her back against the door frame, its edge pressing into her skin.

“Yeah?” she asks and she tries not to sound worried, tries to hide her doubts. She doesn't want to fall back into this dance with Buffy, pushing and retreating and never connecting again.

A sigh from Buffy. She isn't looking at Faith, is staring at the wall, and Faith wishes she had brought food, had brought clothes. It's a dumb thought, disconnected and useless, but still...she would have felt better.

There is a sound coming in from the open window, the brakes of a car, an engine roaring, and Faith tenses for a moment before she forces herself to relax. The Slayers aren't the only ones left in Sunnydale, not yet, there are still rats leaving the ship. She tells herself not to hate them.

“I was trying to lead them,” Buffy says suddenly, her voice tired and rough and yet steady, still breaking through the silence. "I really did."

“You were too scared,” Faith counters, stops. "So was I."

Buffy huffs, gets up, paces. Doesn't look at Faith. “We can't be,” she says.

“Yeah, well,” Faith says.

Buffy sits down on the bed again, legs pressed against each other, her hands clasped together, resting on her lap. Her eyes on Faith but her face still so very blank, distant.

A dog is barking outside, a desperate sound. Lonely, too.

Faith tries not to listen to it.

Somewhere in the house, a clock ticking, the sounds not quite matching the rhythm of time.

“I dreamt of you,” Faith says into the quiet, the words making their way into the world almost involuntary. “When I was in prison. And when Angel told me, you were dead, I thought it might have been the same night.” A shrug, the words soft in the dark. “It wasn't.”

She expects Buffy to answer, a sharp remark, a quick joke. But Buffy remains silent, unmoved. Somewhere else, the clock is still ticking. The dog howls into the night.

Faith gets up.

The girls are alone in the Summers house, Caleb and his minions are still out there. Xander is hurt, Willow seems off and Giles even more so. She should return, make sure everything is okay.

She doesn't want to.

But she promised.

"I'll see you around," she says, turning away from Buffy, turning towards a place she doesn't want to go to. Thinks for a moment, that she can't remember how often she already did this, how many times she left Buffy behind. Thinks, 'One more to go,' and takes a step.

“Faith?” Buffy says, voice oddly small, unsure.

She stops in the doorway, holds herself still. Waits.

“Stay?”

Faith turns around, turns back to Buffy, and all her promises fall away.

[In prison, she dreamt of freedom.

A dancefloor, a graveyard, a dark alley.

Somebody next to her. Untouchable. Unwavering.

She dreamt of reaching out.]

Faith crawls into bed next to Buffy, keeping space between them, carefully calculated.

Still, she feels her warmth, feels the power pinned into her body, a butterfly causing hurricanes. Wonders, if she feels the same to Buffy. Doubts it.

She tries to settle in, tries to relax, thinks she should rest for the battle to come. Instead, she stares at Buffy's shoulders, at her delicate neck, at the strands of hair curling there. 

Breathes in deeply and imagines a world without Buffy, a world where she didn't come back and Faith never met her. A world where she was the only defense left after Kendra died. It's a sharp thought, a dangerous one, and Faith hurts with it.

"I almost broke out of prison when they told me," she says. "I wanted to get out and... I wanted to hurt that thing that killed you. But you already did that and I... There was nothing I could do. There was nothing left to do."

The rustle of sheets, Buffy moving, turning towards her.

In the dim light of the room, Faith can hardly see her face, sees outlines instead, hollowed out. And for a moment she thinks that maybe this was better, maybe this way, they can reach each other. It's a stupid idea.

"There was nothing left for me to do, too," Buffy says.

There is some kind of sadness in her words, some kind of grief, and it makes Buffy sound older. Tired.

"But there is now," Faith replies.

A sigh, a shaky breath, and Buffy says, "There always is."

Faith wishes she was smarter, better, she wishes she knew what to say to Buffy, but she never really did, still doesn't. Instead, she reaches out, her fingertips grazing Buffy's shoulder, and she waits for Buffy to push her away.

Buffy doesn't.

They stay like this for seconds, minutes, years. The world ends around them in fire and blood. A cat screams into the night, fighting or fucking.

And Faith curls around Buffy, her body bending in unfamiliar ways, giving in where it has never before. Buffy takes her hand. Their fingers intertwined, strong and warm, the only sure thing left in the world.

The night goes on.

Faith falls asleep.

[A blanket on the grass, a blue sky above her, light wind in her hair.

The Mayor, mad but gentle. A fake memory, just play pretend.

Faith, almost at peace, almost letting go of it all, almost gone.

She could stay in that moment. It would be okay.

And Buffy and a knife and blood.

Faith, waking up.]

She wakes up and Buffy is gone.

For a moment, Faith is actually surprised.

She pushes it away, gets up. Reads Buffy's haphazardly thrown message and thinks of the plan that led to this all, to Buffy on her own and Faith the leader of the Slayers.

Thinks of that wine cellar, of Caleb and of Buffy going down when he punched her.

The letter falls to the ground.

And Faith runs.

[She dreamt of Buffy dying.

A vampire a little too wild, a little too smart.

A werewolf pack, their paws hitting the ground in an army's rhythm.

A witch and a curse.

A grieving woman, angry that Buffy didn't save her child.

Sheer, dumb luck.]

Killing Caleb, in the end, is almost easy.

Faith storms into the cellar, into the middle of a fight, Buffy trading punches and dumb one-liners with him. There is scythe on the floor, a wicked thing, and it calls to Faith. 

She throws herself into the fight without a pause, adds her fists and voice. She falls into a rhythm with Buffy. Caleb hates them for it, she can see it on his face, hear it in his voice and words, and it feels _good_. 

It feels fantastic, and for a wild moment, she wishes Xander was with them. So he could see, so he could feel this, too. But he isn't. Buffy and she, they have a task - a mission. 

This won't end like the last time they were in this place. 

Caleb is trapped between them, between Buffy's kicks and Faith' fists. Faith flips to the side, grabs the weapon. Throws it to Buffy, drives Caleb back with short jabs, forces him towards Buffy. Sees her with the scythe, sees her swinging it in a graceful arc.

It cuts through him so easily.

"Ewww," Buffy says, looking down at him, his head rolling past her feet and towards Faith.

Faith gives it a slight kick with the tip of her boots just to make Buffy shudder. Smirks at her.

"You," Buffy points at her, "I hate." Then she looks at their new weapon, this shiny, sharp blade. "You, I like. Where have you been all my life?"

"Where did it even come from?" Faith asks, stepping past the heap of flesh and bones on the ground.

Buffy shrugs. "Pulled it out of a stone. Once and future queen."

Faith stares. "What?"

A grin, Buffy shaking her head. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that we got a weapon now. We got... Faith, this is something. This could help us."

"Yeah," Faith says. Smiles. "We should show this to Giles. And Willow." She pretends that she doesn't see the flash of a frown on Buffy's face.

Says, "Let's go home," and the war rewrites itself when Buffy falls into step with her.

[After Angel told her that Buffy was dead, Faith stopped dreaming.

She slept and her mind winked out, faded until the wake-up call ripped her back into the world and the guards pushed her out of her cell. It felt lonely, it felt _dead_ and she missed all the colors she used to see.

Maybe, she missed Buffy.

And then, she dreamt again. She dreamt of falling , of pain and dirty earth under her fingernails. She dreamt of clouds breaking open and rain hitting the ground. 

She woke and she knew, she felt it thrumming in her bones, in every wild beat of her heart.

_She's back, she's back, she's back._

And Faith finally cried.]

The scythe is light in her hand, a promise of power and strength. She can feel it fill her up, can hear it say, _Go, go, go!_ , a battle chant, a war cry.

But Faith remains steady. She turns to Buffy, and she smiles at her, pointing to the house, to Buffy's home, to the fight yet to come.

“Ready?” she asks.

Buffy nods. Smiles. Takes a step towards Faith and takes her hand. Says, “Hell yeah.” 

Faith wants to spin in circles and laugh, she wants to pick a fight with the worst monster ever just because right now, with the scythe in her hands and Buffy by her side, it would be so easy.

She wants to be crazy, she wants to be that girl who danced with Buffy, who still thought the world should open up for her. She wants to lean in and kiss her.

Thinks Buffy might let her.

But the door opens, and Dawn calls to them. Faith pulls back. Smiles at Buffy, trying out a new bent of her lips.

“Later,” she says.

“Later,” Buffy agrees.

[At night, Faith dreams of fighting a war and winning it.

She dreams of Buffy.]


End file.
